


Lose Your Breath

by thattrainssailed



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, adoration, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8512189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thattrainssailed/pseuds/thattrainssailed
Summary: He wonders if the others feel like this. If they look at their partners and their hearts stumble, their breaths catch, their minds screech to a halt. He wonders if this is the same for everyone, and if it is, he wonders how the world keeps moving.





	

He wonders if the others feel like this. If they look at their partners and their hearts stumble, their breaths catch, their minds screech to a halt. He wonders if this is the same for everyone, and if it is, he wonders how the world keeps going.

 

Maybe it’s just him, maybe it’s just because _Akaashi_.

 

Because when he’s around, oh, Bokuto can barely breathe. It’s been five years since he was drawn into Akaashi’s orbit, and he’s been a smiling moon ever since. The day Akaashi walked into the Fukurodani gym, all fiddling fingers and reproachful gaze, Bokuto spent half their practice time fighting an internal battle between awe and intimidation. Awe won out, and so did the courage required to speak to Akaashi.

 

He’s spent the last five years attempting to figure out that same beauty.

 

Specifically, Bokuto wants to find the stem of it. The core. He’s yet to find it, not for lack of trying; his search has been thorough. It’s been hours of kisses along Akaashi’s stomach, of licking and sucking at his neck, of Bokuto as deep inside of him as he can be. And still, nothing. So he continues his search.

 

It doesn’t start at his legs, hiked up over Bokuto’s shoulders. It’s not in his ass, marked red by Bokuto’s hands. It isn’t in his mouth, although the smile he reserves especially for Bokuto makes a strong argument.

 

He doesn’t tell Akaashi about his search, of course. It’s so precious, something to be looked for so delicately, that Bokuto can’t risk the spell of its existence being broken prematurely. It occasionally means a frown when Bokuto stumbles on his way down Akaashi’s body, a concerned “What?” when Akaashi smiles and Bokuto’s brow furrows. But, the older boy tells himself, it’s all in the name of research. Of the journey.

 

And yet it’s as fruitless as ever. The core isn’t in Akaashi’s toes, in the way they wiggle unhappily when they don’t quite fit under a shared blanket. Bokuto can’t find it in Akaashi’s fingers, so delicate in the heat they manage to bring Bokuto’s body over and over. And it isn’t in his back, even when it’s decorated with faint imprints of teeth.

 

Bokuto checks and double-checks, going over Akaashi’s body as many times as he’s permitted, seeking out the very thing that makes his heart race most. That makes him feel like he might be dying when Akaashi looks at him in that certain way, and then disappears towards their shared bedroom. Bokuto checks everywhere, and he can’t find it.

 

And then he realises, maybe there’s nothing to find.

 

It comes to him while he’s carefully documenting Akaashi’s hips: their sharpness and their width and their perfect curve (it’s not in there, either). His tongue hesitates as it meets pale flesh. Eyes dart up to meet Akaashi’s, all dark and desperate. Bokuto closes his eyes, smiles to himself, and presses his lips to delicious skin.

 

Akaashi doesn’t have a core, Bokuto decides. There’s no great mystery to be discovered deep within his body (although Bokuto checks there just in case). There’s nothing more complex, nothing deeper. It’s just Akaashi. Akaashi. Akaashi.

 

His name, his very existence, sings in every beat of Bokuto’s heart. It’s in every flex of his hand, every _whoosh_ of his breath.

 

There’s no core to it. No one spot to pinpoint that will explain it all. It’s simple Akaashi, in his whole and in his every part.

 

The skip of Bokuto’s heart is in the twist of his fingers as he studies for an impending exam. It builds as he runs his fingers through his hair, descends as his teeth work at the end of his battered pen. The drop of Bokuto’s stomach lies in the way he stretches his arms above his head, the way he looks over at Bokuto and his entire frame seems to relax, just a little.

 

Without a word, Akaashi walks over to the couch Bokuto is laid across, and deposits himself parallel to the length of Bokuto’s body. He presses his face into Bokuto’s shirt and sighs.

 

Bokuto combs his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. “You considering my plan of quitting university and becoming a koala?”

 

A grunt.

 

“Hey, you’re getting some pretty good practice in right now. You’ll have the koala-fications in no time-”

 

He’s cut off, half by his own laughter, half by Akaashi swatting at him without raising his head.

 

“Hey hey hey! Violent!’

 

“You deserve it,” muffled.

 

“Studying makes you so mean.”

 

Akaashi’s face finally emerges, chin digging into Bokuto’s chest. The older boy doesn’t complain, just lets a hand settle onto Akaashi’s lower back

 

“You’ve been happy lately,” Akaashi accuses.

 

“Anyone would seem happy to you, Mr. Grumpypants.”

 

“No, but you’ve been looking at me and smiling.”

 

“Do you not look at me and smile sometimes, Akaashi? I’m wounded.”

 

Akaashi rolls his eyes, the ghost of a smile brushing his lips. “You know what I mean.”

 

Bokuto hums. Lets his fingers slip under the hem of Akaashi’s shirt.

 

“Just been thinking about some stuff, is all.”

 

“Like what?”

 

Bokuto pauses. Lets his fingers dance across to the curve of Akaashi’s waist. The younger boy squirms and glares. Bokuto retracts his fingers.

 

“Just that I don’t need to look into your stomach or your legs to love you.”

 

Akaashi blinks. “If I didn’t know you this well, I’d be concerned you were a serial killer. And frankly, that sentence has put a lot into doubt.” Bokuto smacks Akaashi on the ass, once, lightly. Akaashi squirms again.

 

“Kinks won’t distract me from your murder sentences, Kou.”

 

The syllable falls so easily from Akaashi’s tongue, and slips its way under Bokuto’s skin. He bites his lip.

 

“When’s your exam?”

 

“Two days.”

 

“How much more study?”

 

“A little. Why?”

 

Bokuto twists his legs off the couch, gathering Akaashi in his arms as they awkwardly untangle.

 

“Study breaks are important,” he tells Akaashi seriously. He ignores Akaashi raised eyebrow, and continues to ignore Akaashi’s half-hearted protests that soon dissolve into giggles as they reach their bedroom. The sound joins the blood pumping through Bokuto’s veins.

 

Maybe he should take one final look at Akaashi’s body. For that core.

 

Just to check.

**Author's Note:**

> When the world goes to shit so you distract yourself by writing fanfiction for the first time in almost a year, heyooooo


End file.
